


Exhilaration of Victory

by headupheelsdown



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Army Rangers, B&B, F/M, First Gulf War, New Beginnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-23 05:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13780914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headupheelsdown/pseuds/headupheelsdown
Summary: Army Ranger Seeley Booth is immediately captivated by an intelligent woman in a bar. He thinks that his impeding deployment will douse the fire, but little does he know it is only the beginning. B&B, AU





	1. Chapter 1

January 1991

Booth waited at the bar for Teddy. Punctuality was not one of his friends strong points. As he waited, Booth spun around in the barstool, pressing his back against the bar top. The bar was full of couples. He never understood how people claim to meet women in bars. Every woman there was coupled up.

As Booth continued to people watch, Teddy finally arrived. The two men clapped each other on the back. Thinking of their impending deployment, the two men savor the taste of beer and the sight of pretty women. Teddy said as much. The two men continued talking and drinking beers.

"So, I reminded my parents to let my truck run every once in a while. Last year, I tried to drive when I got home, and it wouldn't turn over," Teddy complained.

"You've had that truck since you were in high school. And, it was a piece of shit then! Ever think that it's just finally quitting time?" Booth asked. Booth knew how to press Teddy's buttons. He had been subject to many rants about Teddy's love affair with his vehicle.

"Never," Teddy disagreed, downing the rest of his beer. "This next round is on you, Sarge."

Booth shook his head, refusing to argue. He continued people watching, noticing a group of women that walked in. Two of the girls were dragging a third by her wrists into the bar. The girl being dragged was trying to plant her feet, but to no avail. All three were giggling, having fun.

Teddy came back, sliding a beer in front of Booth. "I don't know why you have to be so rude to her, man. She's a classic," Teddy said.

"Are we still talking about your truck, or is there something else you need to tell me?" Booth asked, keeping his eyes on the group of girls.

Teddy sputtered a response, but stopped suddenly when he noticed that Booth's attention was elsewhere. Teddy followed Booth's gaze. "Oh, there's a view," Parker said, punctuating his sentence with a low whistle.

Booth's eyes were stuck on the woman who was drug into the bar. She had brown hair and a pale complexion that made her bright eyes seem too pale blue to be natural. Her brown tank top accentuated the lines of her jaw and collarbone, not to mention the amount of cleavage revealed. The women beside her were also attractive, but Booth couldn't tear his eyes off of her long enough to notice.

Teddy punched Booth quickly in the arm, succeeding in diverting his attention. "She's coming this way! You can't be staring at her," said Teddy. He spoke into his beer, willing his buddy to be cool.

Booth fought off a blush at his own brazenness. He followed suit with Teddy, gulping his drink. He almost choked on a mouthful when one of the other two girls approached the bar right between Booth and Teddy.

The woman was of Asian descent, her dark eyes and hair showing her heritage. She wore heels, making her seem taller than she was. As she placed her elbows on the bar, the many bracelets on her wrists made a chiming sound. She ordered three drinks, succeeding in getting the bartender's attention in a way that only beautiful women can. The woman leaned back from the bar and looked directly at Booth.

"We're celebrating her break up," the woman said, nodding in the direction of the first woman that had stolen his attention. Booth tried to act like he didn't know what she was talking about, but she was not fooled. "Go easy, studly," she said.

The woman turned her attention away from him, turing to Teddy instead. Booth overheard her introduce herself as Angela. When her drinks were ready, Booth offered to help her carry them over to the table. Angela agreed, but seemed to find his unnecessary assistance humorous.

"Girls," Angela greeted her friends at the table, "I found us some friends!" Teddy had followed as well.

Booth watched as blue eyes rolled, obviously used to this antics before. He slid into the curved booth beside the two remaining women. Angela was standing off to the side, talking to Teddy. Booth watched as Angela placed an open palm on Teddy's chest, laughing at something he said. Hopefully his conversation would go as well.

Before he could open his mouth to speak, he saw the third woman leave the table. All he noticed was her fluffy ponytail and her pink dress as she walked away. Alone with the woman that had captivated him since she walked in, Booth said the first thing that popped into his head.

"Do you believe in fate?" he asked. He flashed a charming smile.

"Absolutely not," she answered quickly, eyes raking over his dark features. "Ludicrous."

Booth's smile only grew as he outstretched a hand. "Seeley Booth," he introduced himself.  
"Temperance Brennan," she responded, placing her hand in his outstretched one.

When their hands touched, Booth savored the contact. He had to fight visions of pulling her closer, or kissing her hand, or never letting her hand go. He fought off the urge to do all of these things, instead just gripping her hand for a few moments too long.

"I see you've met Angela," she said, "Since she brought you over here, I guess that means you passed her test with lots of colors." At his confusion, she added, "It means you did very well."

"Flying colors," Booth amended, "I passed with flying colors." He realized that his smile had yet to falter. This woman was awkward, but so enchanting.

She returned his smile heartily. Booth turned his body toward her, eager to speak with her. Brennan mirrored his actions. "What did she tell you?" Brennan asked. She knew the profound meddling capabilities of her best friend.

"Just that you were celebrating," he said. Brennan could tell he was holding something back, but let it slide.

"And you think you can help with that?" she said.

Booth took in her expression, one eyebrow raised high on her forehead. He nodded, accepting her challenge. Brennan's eyes scanned the man in front of her. His dark eyes were focused solely on her and his brown hair stood in disorganized spikes. The blue t-shirt he was wearing fit snugly over his broad chest and muscular arms. When he noticed her gaze rise to his lips, one corner of his mouth turned in a crooked smirk.

"I think someone like me could benefit hugely from an association with someone like you," she said.

Booth laughed to cover his blush. "Are you yanking my chain?" he asked, shocked at her brazenness.

"I don't know what that means," she replied, "but I can assure you, I'm not." Her eyes were once again finding his lips, as if they were moving of their own volition. Booth's watched her carefully. Noticing the mutual attraction, he put his arm on the back of the booth, letting his fingers dangle to where they were skimming her shoulder.

Their attention was torn from each other as Angela and Teddy approached the table. "Hey, sweetie. Teddy and I are going to go somewhere a little more private," Angela said, exchanging a knowing look with the blonde man at her side. Brennan nodded, catching the hint. "I'll see you and Daisy at the lab for lunch tomorrow," Angela added.

"See you tomorrow. Is Daisy leaving as well?" Brennan asked.

"She left a while ago with some of the other interns," Angela said. "She didn't want to interrupt this." Angela punctuated her sentence with a sweeping hand gesture between Booth and Brennan. Brennan ignored her friend's comment and Booth laughed as they walked away.

"You work at a lab?" asked Booth. He would not be shocked to find out that she was a physicist or researcher from their conversation thus far.

"Yes. I'm an anthropologist. I'm here doing a partnership with the military coroner. The access gives me time to gather information for my next dissertation," she answered. She shivered at his fingers drawing lazy shapes on her exposed shoulder.

Booth nodded, impressed by her words. "So that's your thing? Bones?" He slid his arm from the back of the booth, trailing his fingers from where they rested on her shoulder until he was at her hip. Splaying his hand wide, he pulled her body closer to his, never losing eye contact.

"You could say that. What's your niche?" she said. He had more information about her. All she knew about the man beside her was his name. That, and her body was responding to the strong jaw line and the breadth of his shoulders. The proximity was making that response quite profound. Maybe she didn’t need to know more, after all.

"Army Ranger," he answered, searching her eyes for any hesitation. Some women were immediately turned off by his profession, not exactly relationship friendly. Her gaze did not waver.

"Now that my friends are gone, we could follow suit," she suggested, abruptly changing the course of their conversation again. Her eyes were dancing around his face, pulled back to his lips over and over again. His arm was still around her. She was acutely aware of his hand spread on her lower back and his knee touching hers under the table.

Booth swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'll call a cab," he said quickly.

A few minutes later, they were rushing out of the front door of the bar and into the rain. Booth reached out for Brennan, who was a little ahead of him. "Hold on, hold on. Listen," he grabbed her elbow and waved for the cab to wait for them. "Listen, Bones. I've got something to confess."

Brennan looked up into his face, sliding on her coat against the January chill. They were under the overhang, keeping dry. "What? The fact that you're a direct descendant of John Wilkes Booth? I already know that," she offered. Booth gave her a confused look, asking how she knew. "From your bone structure," she answered. All night, she had been studying it closely enough to draw conclusions. She noticed the use of a nickname, Bones, belatedly.

"Just keep that under your hat, okay? For now?" His request was met with a chuckle and a smile. "What I wanted to confess was," he continued, "I won't be here long. I’m about to go on deployment."

"Why did you feel you had to tell me that?" She was stunned that he told her. Most men would be thankful for an excuse to have a one night stand that they would never see again. 

"I just feel like," Booth replied, wetting his lips with his tongue. "I feel like this is going somewhere," he finished. His eyes flashed from her eyes to her lips, and back again.

"Why did you feel like this is going somewhere?" She was scooting closer to him. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his face as she talked. Their noses were almost touching.

"I…," he stammered, his voice taking on a husky quality. "I feel like I'm going to kiss you." He barely had time to get out the words before their lips connected.

Her mouth on his was soft. He was almost scared to move under her lips, not wanting to break the spell. The hesitation lasted only a moment before he moved his mouth against hers. As their lips touched, she brought her hand up to his shoulder. Booth snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. Her mouth opened against his, and he felt her tongue seeking permission to touch his. He was once again surprised and aroused by her daring manner. The kiss increased in passion, only ending when the taxi honked its horn.

Brennan pulled away first, placing a hand on his chest. She giggled when she heard him say "Wow." Opening the door of the taxi, she turned back to Booth. "We are not spending the night together," she called through the rain.

"Of course we aren't. Why?" He was too awestruck to move.

"Tequila," she responded, sliding into the cab and closing the door. When he saw the door closing, Booth sprung into motion, willing the cab to stop.

He tapped on the window. Booth asked, "So you're afraid that when I look at you in the morning, I'll have regrets?" as she rolled down the window.

"That would never happen," she answered confidently, smiling wide and giggling.

The cab pulled away, and Booth walked into the street behind it. He watched as she turned around in the cab, sending him a wave and a smile. Electrical buzzing filled his ears, and he saw the flashing POOL sign above the bar. He shook his head, knowing that nothing in that bar could satisfy him now.


	2. Chapter 2

February 1991

Booth ducked his head against the wind, trying to avoid getting sand in his mouth. As if being stuck in the desert wasn’t bad enough, the February weather brought rain and cold. He had been in Kuwait for two weeks. Iraqi forces were not withdrawing from the area even though the United Nations mandated deadline had passed. Now, it was time to force them out. 

The only thing that was as persistent as the itch of sand were his thoughts of the blue eyed woman he met before deploying. Booth shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he walked into the small building. The rest of his unit was already assembled, so he entered quietly. The men around his were chatting excitedly, eager to get off of the base and into the action. When their commander stood, everyone hushed. 

Major General Greggs laid out the plan. A small unit would be sent out to capture a high value target wanted for heinous war crimes. Booth would provide sniper overwatch. A six man team would enter the home, retrieve the target, and they would leave as swiftly as they came. Intelligence had cameras on the building now, and knew the target was inside. Vehicles would pick them up within the hour, and they would strike just after dark.

After they were dismissed, they flooded out of the room. Booth was pulled left and right, soldiers hyped to have a mission hollering in his ear. One all too familiar voice belonged to Corporal Teddy Parker. “Booth! We finally get to earn that paycheck!” he said.

Booth nodded. Teddy was young, fresh out of Ranger School. He had enlisted right after high school. His smile was goofy, but infectious. Booth was a sniper, and Teddy was his spotter. The two spent many hours together training and practicing before deployment. So far, the time that they had been here was uneventful. Booth had yet to pull the trigger on this deployment. He knew the time would come eventually, but he was never one to rush it. An index card in his breast pocket had a record of tally marks, each one taken as simply as a flexing of his finger. Booth did his duty unquestioningly, but felt the weight of each life taken. His solace was found in knowing that each enemy would not weigh the lives of others so heavily. 

Teddy thumped Booth on the shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. “C’mon, man. Let’s make sure you have all your shit squared away,” Booth said. Teddy rolled his eyes, but followed. Booth was commonly mocked as being the ‘old man’ of the group. The two cleaned and prepared their equipment, waiting for their ride.

\-----

Booth watched his team though the scope of his rifle. They had just entered the home, filing in silently and orderly. He continued scanning for threats. His attention was brought back to the tan building suddenly, caught by a bright light. The explosion assaulted his eyes before he heard the blast.

Orange flames licked the air outside of the windows on the second story. Smoke started blowing, starting grey and evolving to black. Booth’s heart pounded in his chest, and he used his scope to search frantically for his team. He could see two men emerging from the building, supporting a third in a fireman’s carry.

A quick scan of the area yielded several civilians leaning out of windows in surprise, looking for the source of the commotion. Cover blown, their new priority was getting out of the area safely. Booth heard the men on the ground communicating their situation to base over his radio. He made eye contact with Teddy, and they both scuttled back down the building and to the rest of the group.

When they arrived, all six team members were out of the building. All of them were yelling loudly, trying to communicate through damaged ears. Two were worse for wear. Private First Class Hayes was rocking on his feet, the front of his uniform covered in vomit. He must have been close enough to the blast to cause a concussion. Corporal Logan couldn’t stand on his own. He was hunched over, supported by two others as he coughed blood. His breaths were coming in short, loud gasps, and he clutched his side. 

Voices over the radio signaled the impending arrival of the quick reaction force, ready to bust them out. Booth and Teddy went to Logan, picking him up off of the ground and allowing the other men to contain themselves. They moved as a group, scouts ahead checking the path as they advanced to the main roadway.

Armoured vehicles awaited them, and they loaded quickly. The medic of the group attended to Logan first, then Hayes as they moved. The main concern of the men was to attend to their two wounded, either by helping the medic or my making as much room as possible for him to work. 

They unloaded at base, rushing to the medical tent. Before everyone had been assessed, Major General Greggs was there. He took a cursory check of the team, noting Logan’s bruised lung and Hayes’s concussion. Before he could ask, they began relaying the events.

“Must have been ready for us,” someone said.

“Definitely. Someone tipped him off,” another voice agreed.

“We were only in there for a minute before the blast,” Booth said. “I didn’t see anyone watching us.” Teddy agreed.

“Did anyone get to confirm the target?” Greggs asked.

Heads shook, and eyes darted around the room. When no one could confirm, several men cursed. 

“I’ll send a team to secure the area. We can go back with the bomb squad and squints for identification. Those of you that are able will need to come to retrace the events,” Greggs said. Everyone agreed.

\-----

Teddy shoveled so much food into his mouth that Booth doubted he would be able to swallow. He chewed heartily. “So, what if it isn’t him?” he asked, the food in his mouth making the words run together.

Booth gave Teddy a disgusted look. Teddy swallowed quickly, and smiled sheepishly. “Then we keep looking,” Booth said, “Simple as that.”

Teddy nodded. Their target was wanted for his involvement in the 1988 Gilgit Massacre and his current leading of forces invading Kuwait. Mohamed Accam was heavily suspected in forming a new faction of jihadist leaders targeting non-Muslim countries. This guy was responsible for ‘teaching a lesson’ to Shia civilians almost three years ago by burning people from their homes, ruining crops, raping women, and even lynching others. Accam was now running one of over two dozen torture sites in Kuwait City for the last year. Noncombatants like women, children, and the mentally handicapped were disfigured and killed by the hundreds. The Laws of Armed Conflict were not even suggested guidelines for him. He would be a target at the top of the list until his death was proven.

Teddy nodded. This time, he waited until after he swallowed to continue talking. “When is that fancy scientist supposed to get in?”

Major General Greggs had told them that morning about the arrival of the bomb squad and scientists. Once they arrived, they were to be escorted to the scene. Booth, Teddy, and the other four uninjured men from last night would retrace their steps. Hopefully, they would be able to figure out how the bomb was made, and identify any dead. Accam was supposed to be in that building according to intel, so he should be one of the bodies present.

“Unless we are expecting someone else, I’d say that’s them now,” Booth said. A vehicle was visible in the distance, kicking up a trail of dust. The two soldiers watched as it approached the gate, slowing to a stop. The gatekeepers signaled inside, and Greggs came out of the main structure. 

Booth, Greggs, and Teddy saw five people exit the vehicle. Three were wearing tan camouflage uniforms, so they must be the bomb squad. The other two, a scrawny man and a figure decidedly female, are wearing cargo pants and long sleeve shirts. When they are close enough to identify individual features, Booth’s mouth fills with cotton and his palms sweat.

Her blue eyes are even more striking in the desert landscape. He can hear Greggs introducing him, and barely remembers to nod. Teddy has a smug smile plastered on his face. The men on the other side all defer to the woman, allowing her to introduce herself first. She stepped forward. “Dr. Temperance Brennan and this is my assistant, Zack Addy.” Zack waved awkwardly. 

Greggs explained the living situations, indicating to their tents. She declined his offer of time to get settled in.  “It will be much easier to identify the remains in daylight rather than using flashlights. I would prefer to leave within an hour,” Brennan said. 

“That can be arranged,” Greggs said. “Booth, please gather the rest of the team and meet back here.”

Snapped from his reverie, he muttered an affirmative to his superior. Booth cleared his throat harshly.  “We will be ready in half an hour,” He said, speaking to the visitors.

Brennan nodded, her messy ponytail bobbing. “Thank you. Nice to see you again, Booth,” she said. Her smile was small, but her cheeks betrayed a tinge of pink.

“You, too, Dr. Brennan,” he replied. Booth turned, and walked back to the barracks. He heard Teddy fall into step beside him. 

Teddy bumped his shoulder into Booth’s. “That’s her! The girl from the bar!” he said excitedly. Thankfully, they were out of earshot of the others.

“I remember,” Booth said. There was no way he could forget. She captivated him then, and it was even more consuming the second time.

Teddy punched him in the shoulder repeatedly. “Man, you’re lucky. Do you think she brought Angela?” he said. Booth rolled his eyes, and reminded Teddy to focus. They had a job to do. All of the other team members are rounded up quickly. Booth grabbed his pack and his rifle before going out to the meeting spot. 

Brennan and her assistant waited there. Her cargo pants hung loose, leading to heavy work boots. The hunter green shirt clinging to her body showed her femininity. When Booth got closer, he noticed that she redid her hair. Her brown locks were braided in a single line, with shorter pieces dangling around her face. He selfishly hoped she fixed it for him. 

Teddy and another soldier are headed their way. Booth decided to seize his moment to speak to her alone. “Dr. Brennan, would you like to make sure we have packed all the supplies you may need?” he said. 

Brennan nodded, then turned to Zack to dismiss herself. She came to Booth’s side, and they walked to the vehicles together. 

“It really is good to see you again,” Booth said. He looked her in the eyes, trying to convey how much she had occupied his thoughts lately.

“I didn’t know if I would see you again,” she said, maintaining eye contact. Their walking pace had slowed. Finally to the tan vehicles, Booth lead her around one, using it to block them from view of the others.

“Shame we can’t just pick up where we left off, right?” he said. He meant it to sound lighthearted, but it came out full of longing. His gaze has drifted from her eyes to her mouth. Unconsciously, he wet his lips with his tongue. 

“Why not?” she asked. Her heart hammered in her chest. Like there is a noose around them, she moved closer to him. She watched his mouth move as he answered.

“Policy. You’re a consultant for my unit,” he said. Though he intended to create space with the words, he is drawn to her physically. Her scent, something earthly and inviting, invaded him. He reached out for her, eager for contact, but pulled his hand back at the last moment. 

She leaned back against the metal door, and his body followed hers like a magnet.  “That’s too bad,” she said. She brought her hand up to touch his cheek lightly. He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes momentarily. “If only there was a way around that,” she said softly. Her lips were so close to his that he felt her forming the words.

Every muscle in his body screamed at him. He wanted to throw caution to the wind. The night they met, she left him wanting so much more. This time, it was happening again. He took the plunge, sealing his lips over hers. She responded instantly. Her lips were soft and warm. Brennan moved her hand into his short hair, pulling him closer to her. He obliged, pressing his body to hers.

A metallic cling broke them apart quickly, jumping apart like teenagers. Booth saw the source of the noise. Teddy was at the side of the vehicle, and he had purposefully hit the butt of his rifle against the metal side. Brennan blushed and turned away. Booth smiled sheepishly, looking at Brennan before walking to Teddy. He clapped the man on the back in thanks when he saw the rest of his team a few feet away. As they loaded into the back, Teddy was chuckling and shaking his head, obviously amused. 


	3. Chapter 3

_February 1991_

The scene from the night before was more gristly in daylight. Soldiers were guarding the building, keeping the area preserved for Dr. Brennan and her team. Booth lead the way through the door and up to the second floor. Once inside, Booth saw that the room was stained black from the blast. Unidentifiable human remains were spattered around the room and in small piles. Booth pinched his nose against the acrid odor of burnt flesh that hung in the air.

Brennan immediately took charge of the situation. “I need surgical gloves and masks for the retrieval team, as well as sterile medical bags and vegetable oil,” she said. Zack dropped the two plastic tool boxes he was holding and began retrieving the items she asked for.

“Vegetable oil?” Booth asked.

“The oil will loosen the seared body parts stuck to any surfaces,” Brennan said, gesturing to bits of flesh stuck to the wall. Her explanation made Booth immediately think of cooking steaks on a grill, and it nauseated him. He swallowed quickly and looked away. As a sniper, he didn’t often get up close and personal with corpses, nonetheless ones as mangaled as this.

Properly protected, Brennan reached down to grab something off of the ground. Booth thought it looked like the remnants of an arm. Zack was immediately behind her, ready with a medical bag. “We’re not going to be able to identify the body from the flesh. Fingertips and facial epidermis have been reduced to the constituent carbon,” Brennan said, pulling on a charred piece of flesh to expose the bone underneath.

Booth tried to erase the disgusted look from his face. “Then how…,” Booth swallowed hard, “How will you be able to confirm the target?”

Brennan flinched at his use of the word ‘target’ and he made a mental note of it. “Age can be determined from most bones. Race and sex can be determined relatively easily from the skull after we reconstruct it. We can use the femur to determine height,” she said. “Once we have the bones clean, we can match old injuries and other markers for a more positive identification.”

Booth was impressed at her level of confidence. The blast looked to have destroyed most of the person that used to be. Zack and Brennan were retrieving small pieces, a challenge to the squints. Booth watched out the window for any threats, occasionally helping Brennan by holding a bag open.

Once she was certain she had collected as much of the remains as possible, the bomb squad came in to take all other paraphernalia that may be related to the blast. Most bombs came from the air or old missiles that were repurposed. This bombing had been unsuccessful, killing no soldiers, but this type of attack was something they had never seen before.

\-----

First, they used flesh eating beetles to clean the bones. Zack was particularly fond of the insects, and brought them along to every case. She wouldn’t be surprised if they had names. Brennan caught some much needed sleep as the beetles worked. Her dreams were vivid and unsettling. Right before finishing her doctorate, she had worked in Rwanda identifying victims of genocide. Now, the deceased was not a victim, but a possible perpetrator, pursued for his actions. If this was not the correct person, the man hunt would continue. She had seen first hand that some people did not deserve their ability to have an impact on the word, but it felt strange to be on the opposite side, aiding in the capture of another human being. Her feelings were difficult to articulate. It must be worse for a man like Booth, in the position to take the shot. She was suddenly glad that she didn’t put much stock in physcology.

Upon waking, she had clean white bone fragments to piece together to occupy her mind. She went through two bottles of liquid glue reconstructing the skull. It was easier than anticipated, as the blast source must have been on the ground as the decreased was standing. This did create more difficulty in determining height, as the femur was proving more difficult to reassemble. Zack was mumbling at his table, tasked with the long bone of the leg.

In an effort to gather more information, Brennan began a facial reconstruction. She used wax  to fill missing areas and reattach the mandible before making a plaster cast. Next, she placed tissue depth markers according to racial values on the cast. Prosthetic eyes filled the orbits, and she used modeling clay to fill in soft tissue. Facial reconstructions were open to much interpretation, but with only a handful of facts to make identification, it was not lost time. She set it aside, letting the clay set.

Footsteps stole her attention. Booth had entered the makeshift lab, striding towards her confidently. She turned her examining eyes onto him. A tan shirt covered his chest, stretched tight across his broad shoulders. It was tucked into the waist of his sand camouflage pants, accentuating his narrow waist. She thought she saw the glint of a metal chain around his neck, disappearing under the collar of his shirt. A smirk was on his face; he had noticed her appreciative gaze.

“How’s it going, bone lady?” he greeted.

She frowned at the epithet. Brennan guessed that ‘forensic anthropologist’ might be a mouthful for her current companions. “Don’t call me that. We are working on reconstructing the skeleton and giving it a face,” she said, gesturing to the work space in front of her.

He nodded, mentally cataloging the task to come up with a new nickname. The rest of the men had already came up with several that he was sure Brennan would appreciate even less. Booth looked at the tables, noticing the change from charred remains to clean bones. Brennan had made a lot of progress in only a day. “I came to talk to you,” he said. He ran a nervous hand through his dark hair. She looked at him questioningly, waiting for him to continue. Booth ran his tongue over his lips. “I crossed a line yesterday,” he said.

Brennan set down the skull, giving him her full attention. She jerked her head towards Zack, and he left the area quietly. “How so?” she asked.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. I promise, this isn’t the kind of guy I am,” he paused, shaking his head. Twice, he had kissed her with abandon, forgetting that he did not know much about her besides his initial attraction. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking her in the eyes.

She almost wanted to laugh at the misguided turmoil that filled his deep brown eyes. “I’m not,” she answered. His eyes widened in surprise. “Sometimes we need to satisfy biological urges,” she said. Booth was confused, quirking an eyebrow. “I know that I am attracted to you sexually. I respond to your alpha male qualities and the breadth of your shoulders. Judging by the way your pulse accelerates and your close proximity, you are attracted to me as well,” she explained.

Booth took an unconscious step backwards. “Biological urges? That’s not... That’s all this is to you?” he questioned, hurt.

Brennan sputtered, mentally backpedalling. She looked down at the skull in her hands, turning it carefully to give her time to think. When she did, she made a new discovery. “There’s evidence of a previous skull flexure on the external occipital protuberance. This person was close to an explosion,” she said, incredulous. Booth looked at where she pointed on the skull.

Booth shifted the gears in his brain. “Yeah, that’s kind of why he’s in so many pieces,” he said.

“No,” she answered, pointing to the area on the skull. “A much larger blast. About six weeks ago.” The injury had begun to heal, but the pressure had left telltale markings on the skull. She set the skull down on the table. Brennan reached for the file on Mohammed Accam, scanning the information. Booth looked over her shoulder to read as well. Accam was commanding one of the noncombatant torture sites nowhere near any bombings in that time frame.

“It’s not him,” Booth said.

“That’s correct. Maybe identifying the deceased can produce a lead,” she said as a consolation.

Booth nodded, taking the file. When he did, his eyes found hers and locked her gaze. She had never been good at reading people, but she did not like the way that he was looking at her, his eyes full of disappointment and hurt. Brennan pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, and looked down. She felt his knuckle under her chin, coaxing her gaze back to his. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Booth pulled his hand away slowly, turning to inform his superiors of the findings. He walked out of the room, not looking back.

\-----

Booth kept his distance the next two days. If he saw Brennan, he didn't know what to say. Luckily, he did not see her much. She had holed herself up with Zack, and they were working around the clock. It made it easy to avoid her. Teddy noticed his distance, but kept quiet about it. Booth scanned every area for her, and his spotter noticed.

Finally, she made her presence known. During an update, she walked in as if she had an invite to their meeting. Booth watched her, but she only glanced at him before turning her full gaze to the Major General.  “I have compiled as much information as possible on the deceased,” she said, throwing the manilla file down on the table with a flourish. She spouted off details such as race, sex, height, and previous injuries.

Major General Greggs opened the file as she spoke, scanning her findings. On the second page, he found a photo of the facial reconstruction. His eyes widened, then a smile graced his face. “Boys,” he said in a booming voice, interrupting Brennan, “Anyone recognize this man?” He turned the file outwards, showing everyone in the room the approximate face. Many heads nodded.

“Yusif Baahir,” several men said at once. They knew his face, even with a few educated guesses on Brennan’s part. He was one of the men that was suspected to have been recruited by Accam in his forming jihadist faction. There were rumors of planned attacks on other non-Muslim countries to drive away Western influences.

The conversation in the room shifted. The men began connecting the dots, seeing how the initial target, Accam, and Baahir were working together. “So, did Baahir do this on purpose? Blew himself up, hoping we would think the body was Accam’s?” asked a man with enough patches on his camouflage for Brennan to know he was highly ranked.

“The evidences suggests that the bomb was placed near the feet of the deceased as he was standing. Blast radius and the level of damage to the bones suggests that the bomb was small, but very concentrated. From particulates in the fractures, the bomb was packaged in a cloth bag,” Brennan said. “Zack has been helping the bomb squad reconstruct it, and they did find a manual trigger device.”

“A sacrificial bombing,” Booth said, shaking his head.

Brennan met his eyes and nodded. “The evidence is congruent with that theory,” she said.

The other people in the room began joining the conversation, discussing alternate scenarios or explanations. For a member to commit suicide in order to hide Accam’s trail was a bad sign. First, it meant that his following was stronger than anyone had predicted. Second, it showed that he had a trail worth covering up. Speculation colored every sentence, and Brennan could not contribute further. She backed out of the room, her job completed.

After strategizing, Booth and the rest of the men dispersed. He found Brennan outside, alone. She appeared to be deep in thought, so once he walked up beside her, he stood quietly. His hands settled into his pockets, and he took a deep breath.

“Good work, Bones” he said, speaking first. Compliments never hurt.

Brennan turned her body towards him. She raised an eyebrow at the moniker, but did not argue it. “Thank you,” she responded.

The conversation stagnated quickly, stalling and becoming awkward. Booth pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, stressing the stitching. Summoning courage, Brennan broke the silence. “Let’s freshen the air,” she said.

“Clear the air,” Booth corrected and she nodded. “You mean, like…,” he said, gesturing his hand between them, trying to encompass the tension. Brennan agreed and crossed her arms tighter on her chest.

“How about,” he said, choosing his next words carefully, “we just see where it goes.” Booth watched her reaction closely. She let out a relieved breath and smiled. He mirrored her relief.

“See where it goes,” Brennan repeated.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: This chapter was much more difficult for me to crank out, so please let me know what you think. I love hearing from you. For all the students/teachers or anyone involved in the school life, happy spring break! Mine went by much too quickly**

**Disclaimer: I have no ownership or affiliation with Bones. FOX, Hart Hanson, and other much more important people own my favorite characters, and I just play with them like dolls.**

**I did make a tiny edit to the tail end of the previous chapter, so I have replicated it here:**

_The conversation stagnated quickly, stalling and becoming awkward. Booth pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, stressing the stitching. Summoning courage, Brennan broke the silence. “Let’s freshen the air,” she said._

_“Clear the air,” Booth corrected and she nodded. “You mean, like…,” he said, gesturing his hand between them, trying to encompass the tension. Brennan agreed and crossed her arms tighter on her chest._

_“How about,” he said, choosing his next words carefully, “we just see where it goes.” Booth watched her reaction closely. She let out a relieved breath and smiled. He mirrored her relief._

_“See where it goes,” Brennan repeated._

_\-----_

_February 1991_

Brennan tossed and turned in her bunk, struggling to find a comfortable position. Sleep would not come, more to blame on the person who plagued her thoughts rather than the lumpy mattress. She huffed out a frustrated breath and pressed the pillow to her face, attempting to push away the thoughts. No luck. The glowing digital alarm clock read 4:47 in the morning. Knowing she would only get about another hour of sleep anyway, she rolled out of bed.

She shuffled to the bathrooms, carrying her caddy of shower toiletries. The water was always cold, and it did more to clear her thoughts than anything else. Once the skin on her fingers had shriveled and she had used way more water than environmentally friendly, she toweled off. Back at her bunk, Zack was still sleeping soundly. Brennan slipped out of the room quietly, headed to breakfast.

Booth was seated at a table, eating his toast. He waved her over, and she joined him. “Good mornin’, Bones,” Booth greeted. He smiled broadly, unbothered by the early hour.

She returned his greeting and watched as he dumped a copious amount of sugar into his coffee. “Don’t call me that,” she said, her voice rough and grumpy.

“Someone needed more beauty sleep.” He gestured at her with his fork, teasing openly.

Brennan proved his point as an unbidden yawn caused her to cover her mouth. “I look quite nice, actually. You know, early dog gets the treat,” she said, deadpan.

Booth chuckled. “Early bird gets the worm,” he corrected.

She nodded and changed the subject. “Any progress on finding Accam?” 

“Zilch,” he answered, shaking his head. “How about the big boom?”

Explosives, bombs, and other weapons were not her specialty. All she did was identify the victims afterwards. Luckily for the bomb squad, Zack had a mind capable of solving almost any puzzle. “Zack is working on it, but they are still trying to rebuild the detonator. They do know it was a fertilizer concoction,” she said.

Booth nodded, unsurprised that the kid could squint at a bomb the same way he squinted at bones. Iraqi forces making their own bombs was new and unsettling. Usually, they used explosives that they had either stolen or were left from other forces. He hoped it was not the beginning of a new trend. 

\-----

Brennan stood with Zack, reading over his shoulder. The page looked like a line graph, peaking at several points and running against the bottom at most. Each peak was labeled with an element. Brennan could see that two of the tallest peaks were those for nitrogen and oxygen. The third was the one they were concerned about. “Potassium,” she read aloud. Zack nodded, and the rest of the bomb squad in the room looked up with eyebrows raised. 

“The bombmaker isolated potassium nitrate from the fertilizer,” Brennan explained. Once the fuel was ignited, the nitrates combusted in a chain reaction, producing the blast.

“Great,” a member of the bomb squad said, happy with progress. With such a high priority case, bosses were breathing down their necks, pressing for answers.

“Actually, it is,” Zack said. “Some fertilizers have much more reactive ammonium nitrate. The blast radius would have been much larger and more devastating if it was used.”

The conversation in the room shifted from her area of expertise, and she left them to it. Brennan had spent the entire day in the lab. She knew her best friend back home, Angela, would disapprove. The urge to call her was strong, and she couldn’t wait to get home. Angela was her only friend that she participated in any kind of ‘girl talk’ with, and Brennan knew she would have plenty to say about her running into Booth, usually referencing several romance movie characters and storylines. 

The sun dipped low as she walked, giving the warm air a golden hue. Many soldiers were outside, all headed in the same direction. She followed curiously, reaching the main dining hall where people were sitting on the floor, in seats, or perched on the tables. Someone had hung a bedsheet from the ceiling, and they were projecting opening movie scenes onto it. As the movie began to play, the room quieted.

“Psst,” she heard to her right, “Bones!”

Sure enough, Booth was sitting on top of a table, waving her over excitedly. She shook her head and walked over. “Bones?” she whispered, sitting beside him. His easy use of the nickname simultaneously unsettled and excited her.

“What? It’s your thing,” he said innocently.

“And what is your ‘thing’?” 

He gestured to his chest where the word ‘RANGERS’ was printed in bold black letters across his shirt. “This. Oh, and movie night,” he said, pointing to the makeshift screen. Booth looked relaxed in sweatpants and a bag of popcorn in his hands. He noticed her looking at his snack and passed it to her. 

“Movie night?” It made sense, she realized. At most of the bases, the soldiers had some rituals to give a sense of normalcy to their free time. Working shifts provided them with constant small tasks, but the harsh desert was overwhelming. During her last identification trip, the base where she stayed participated in a night of board games, going so far as to have a tournament bracket for Yahtzee.

“Yeah, tonight it’s…” he was interrupted as someone behind them made a shushing sound. Brennan ducked her head a little at the scolding. Booth smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. He leaned in close to her ear, whispering that the title of the movie was Indiana Jones: Temple of Doom.

Throughout the movie, she tapped him on the shoulder with comments about ‘historical anachronisms’ and ‘glaring anthropological errors’. He should have found it annoying, but he found himself looking forward to her catching errors just so that she would lean into him. 

When the credits rolled, they left together, ignoring his buddies in a way that he was sure would get him ridiculed tomorrow. As they walked, he told her about seeing the second film in theaters when he was twelve, asking a girl he had a crush on. He had tried to get his first real kiss, but missed completely, planting a sloppy kiss near her ear. Jokingly, he blamed it on the dark. She laughed heartily.

“Here is your stop.” He paused at the building. As she walked in front of him, he reached out for her hand. She let him, allowing his grasp to turn her to face him. Sharp blue eyes met soft brown ones in the low light. 

“Movie night was fun,” she said and squeezed his hand. He believed her, sensing that her pointing out errors was a sign of her attention rather than distaste.

“Now, there are so many things I can never unsee,” he said with a chuckle. Every time he saw that movie, he would now think of her and know that the reptiles at the end are alligators, and not native crocodiles.

“Knowledge is power,” she said, using one phrase that she was actually familiar with. He agreed, and their conversation puttered away, silence stretching between them. Neither of them spoke, but both were resistant to break the contact of their hands.

Booth swallowed, making a decision. They had two passionate moments, and now they were working in some sort of partnership, striding to a common goal. It would not last much longer, and they both knew that. Still, his hand stayed clasped around hers, feeling the undeniable connection growing between them. Knowing that the situation was rapidly approaching awkward, he released her hand, using his fingers to swipe a strand of hair out of her face. The ever-present sand clung to her skin and created a rough friction along his finger pads as he did so, and he brushed his thumb across her cheek again to replicate it.

Brennan leaned into his caress, and that was all the encouragement he needed. He stilled his hand on her jaw and leaned in, kissing her lightly on the lips. No longer a kid in a movie theater, he kissed her confidently. His lips molded to hers a second time before pulling away, returning his hands to his sides. “Goodnight, Bones,” he said softly. 

“Goodnight, Booth.” She watched him turn and walk away. Brennan brought a hand to her face, savoring the contact of him that still left a tingle on her lips. She sighed and entered her bunk, knowing that her sleep would be riddled with thoughts of him once again.

\-----

Brennan waited outside of the meeting room, knowing that Booth was inside with Major General Greggs and the rest of the Ranger team. Her department had gathered for a similar exchange that morning. The bomb reconstruction was complete, and they had nothing left to contribute. She was set to leave with Zack and the bomb squad.

The door opened and several soldiers filtered out before Booth. He gravitated towards her, and they walked together towards her building. “Any updates?”

“Yep,” he said. “Intel found that Baahir was Accam’s connection to a communications facility. He was helping to recruit for their cause. They have also been using it to convince forces to stay in Kuwait and disobey the UN agreement,” he said. 

Brennan nodded. “Spreading propaganda,” she said.

“Exactly. We are going to knock it down, so not for much longer,” he said. Major General Greggs had discussed the plans with Booth and his unit before breakfast. A platoon sized element would be headed out that evening, crossing the border to be a few miles into Iraq. The mission was to knock out the communications facility by any means necessary. They were to be a wrecking crew.

“You’ve almost closed the case,” she said, and he suppressed a chuckle at her use of cop lingo she had probably picked up from a television show. “Zack and the others finished the bomb rebuild, so we are headed back to the lab.”

“Now?” 

“Yes,” she said “I just have to grab my things.” 

Booth ran his tongue across his lips, giving him time before replying. He offered to help her load her bags and equipment. She accepted, going into her bunk and emerging a few minutes later with her luggage and equipment. She thanked him for his help when they reached the civilian vehicles. Booth grunted in response, lifting the last bag into the SUV. He closed the hatchback, then turned to lean his back against the metal.

Brennan bit her lip, worrying the flesh between her teeth. For some reason that she didn’t understand, her mind was filling with visions of all the ways the mission could go wrong. “Please be careful,” she said quietly.

“Always.” Booth looked her in the eyes. He suppressed the urge to wrap her in a hug, instead settling to grasp her hand. He held her gaze and cleared his throat. “When I get back, can I call you?”

Brennan smiled. “I would like that,” was her honest answer. He released her hand to fish a pen out of one of the numerous pockets in his camouflage uniform and passed it to her. She wrote her phone number on the back of his hand, tracing over the numbers several times to make it readable. Brennan put the pen in the breast pocket of his shirt, and traced her fingers over the letters of his last name. She placed a kiss on his cheek before she could overthink it. He smiled warmly at her as she left.

Brennan stared out the window as the vehicle bumped down the road. Each time she spoke with Booth, it left her head spinning with things she could have said or possible meanings behind his words. She was no stranger to physical encounters, but Brennan had never had someone plague her thoughts like this before. The pull she felt towards Booth was more than a carnal desire. They were opposite poles of a magnet, forcibly attracted. As more distance separated them, she wondered if the magnetic pull between them would lessen proportionally.


	5. Chapter 5

“Remember, we are the guys in this color,” Teddy teased, pointing to his sand camouflage shirt dramatically as they walked.

Booth furrowed his eyebrows. “Huh?”

“You’ve been so busy with the pretty doctor that I wasn’t sure you remembered your own team,” Teddy said. His light eyes were playful.

“Green isn’t a good color for your complexion,” Booth said, shaking his head.

“Liar,” Teddy said, “I look good in everything.”

The rest of the  trip across the border went smoothly, even with Teddy’s constant chatter. Within a few hours, they had reached the communications facility. They set up a perimeter, and the snipers looked for high ground. Booth found his spot on the roof of a closed mercantile. He settled on his stomach, Teddy beside him. Shortly, the signal was made and the Rangers on the ground swarmed the facility. 

Booth watched the controlled chaos below from the scope of his rifle. Two armed guards outside of the main gates were eliminated quickly by ground forces. Teddy tapped Booth’s shoulder as he looked through the binoculars.

“Armed target, south radio tower, five hundred yards,” he said quickly. Booth quickly found the man he was talking about through the scope of his rifle. The target was pressing the butt of his gun into his armpit, preparing to fire on soldiers below. Teddy read out the wind speed, and Booth adjusted quickly. He pulled the trigger between breaths, landing a bullet solidly in the man’s center mass before the target had his own chance to fire.  

“Confirmed,” Teddy said, “Good shot, Sarge.”

The Iraqi men inside were seemed unprepared for the attack of ground forces, making for a quick siege. Soldiers subdued most easily, securing their hands behind their backs with zip ties and rounding them up. Booth and Teddy scanned windows of nearby buildings looking for other combatants and threats. None were found, and he gave the all clear. He watched as two soldiers guarded the prisoners and the others began destroying things by cutting wires and smashing external power boxes. 

A call over the radio told Booth and Teddy to head back down to help. The group inside the building had found recordings and other digital media they wanted to confiscate, and they needed more hands. The media would be checked to gather intel on how much the jihadist groups knew and maybe even find some of their future plans. 

Booth and Teddy each checked their surroundings one final time before crawling back the way they came. Booth climbed down first, and Teddy followed seconds later, placing his hand on Booth’s shoulder to let him know he was behind. After several paces, Booth felt a prickling sense of unease, causing the hairs on his body to stand straight up. He followed his gut instinct and stopped, only having a moment push Teddy back before light flashed and heat rushed the room.The blast resonated through Booth, throwing him backwards with enough force to press him against the rough wall. 

He blinked repeatedly, trying to clear the stars that filled his vision. The back of his head throbbed, and he was pretty sure it was bleeding. He looked around the room for Teddy, each movement of his head sending searing pain down his spine. His spotter was on the ground a few feet away, eerily still. 

Booth tried to get up, but his efforts were futile and painful. Sliding down the wall, he rolled onto his elbows and heard an awful crunching sound come from his chest as he crawled toward Teddy. He ground his teeth against the pain of each movement. It made him see double. Progress was slow as he pulled himself to his comrade. From his level vantage point, he could tell that Teddy’s chest was rising and falling. The rhythm was inconsistent, but he was still breathing. Booth let out a small sigh of relief, and even that hurt. 

His relief was short lived. A pair of sandals blocked his view, and Booth looked up into the dark, hateful eyes of a middle eastern man. A blunt weapon slammed against his temple, and his vision faded to black.

\-----

Brennan turned off the power supply to the electrophoresis gel. She added the staining compound and left it to set while she added to the paperwork. Twenty minutes later, the DNA sample was ready to place under the ultraviolet light to photograph and analyze. Between aiding on cases with the bomb squad, she spent most of her time in the lab on base. Working with the military was great experience, but she was ready to work in a more specialized environment. A medico-legal lab in Washington D.C. had an opening for a forensic anthropologist, and she was working on the application in her spare moments.

As she confirmed the DNA match, Zack walked into the lab. He waited for her to finish writing down her findings before speaking. “Dr. Brennan, I will be unavailable for a few days. My presence has been requested elsewhere,” he said.

Brennan frowned. Requests had been piling up when they were away, and now she was going to be the only one to work through them. Rather than voicing her complaints, she only said, “Where do they need you this time?”

“Right back where we came from,” he answered. “Another bombing. Since I reconstructed the explosive device last time, they want me to travel with them.”

Brennan felt her chest tighten. Since her presence was not requested as well, there were no bodies in need of identification. Her conclusion offered very little comfort, as there were many possibilities left available. “Any casualties?” she asked, addressing her concerns.

“No bodies,” he answered. Uncharacteristically, he paused. He looked down at his shoes for a moment. “But, it looks like two soldiers were taken as prisoners.”

The sound of rushing blood filled her ears as her heart pounded in her chest. She felt like her rib cage was contracting, squeezing her tightly. Brennan stared at Zack expectantly.

“Teddy and Booth,” he said.

She turned quickly, away from Zack. She unplugged a machine and closed up her notes. Ripping off her gloves, she looked back to her assistant. “I’m coming with you,” she said, in a tone that brokered no argument.

\-----

Booth blinked repeatedly against the darkness, trying to clear his vision. The darkness was relentless, and he belatedly realized that he was staring at a black cloth. He was in the back of a covered truck. The bumps on the road were rough, jarring his back against the metal and causing his head to thump onto the floor. From the pain, he knew there was a goose egg on the back of his head, throbbing worse with each bump the truck hit. He tried to reach out and steady himself, but his hands were tied in front of him and his ankles bound. The truck hit another bump, slamming him against the metal. He heard something else moving around, and looked around. The darkness limited him, so he held his breath, listening. Ragged breaths were coming from his right. 

Teddy.

He squirmed, stretching against the ropes that bound him as he arched his back and attempted to wiggle closer. His spine protested, sending pain signals to his brain in earnest. Booth groaned in frustration and changed tactics. He held his wrists together, knuckles of each hand touching, and spread his elbows. Stretching the rope created only a little slack. He brought his elbows in and crossed his wrists, alternating direction and pulling each time. Using his teeth, he bit a strand of the rope, pulling it as hard as he could over his knuckles. He worked it back and forth, finally clearing his wrists. With this small success, the truck stopped. Booth crossed his wrists repeatedly, working through until he thought he had enough slack to slip through. Leaving the rope around his wrists, he tried to make it look like he was still tied. 

The black sheet was removed, and Booth forced his body limp and kept his eyes shut tight. He heard voices speaking a language he didn’t understand. He heard as they slid something out of the truck, presumably Teddy. A loud thud followed, and then his legs were grabbed and pulled. When he hit the ground, he bit his tongue to suppress the grunt on pain from his back connecting with the sand. His captors didn’t seem to notice his loosened restraints. Their voices faded as they walked back to the truck. 

Booth took his chance, opening his eyes. He turned his head to look for his captors. They were nowhere to be seen. Teddy was indeed on the ground beside him. He moved quickly, slipping his hands out of the slack rope and untying the restraints from his ankles. Hustling to Teddy, he whispered his name urgently. He shook his shirt, trying urgently to wake him. 

“Dammit, man,” Teddy groaned. “Quit. You’re making it worse.”

Booth crossed himself quickly, sending a quick prayer of thanks heaven-ward. He busied his hands untying the bindings on Teddy. “We’ve got to get out of here,” he whispered urgently.

Teddy managed to roll his eyes at Booth for pointing out the obvious. They both struggled to their feet, their balance still compromised. Teddy was rocking, unsteady to the point of almost falling back down. Booth put an arm under his shoulders to support him. They hobbled down the road and around the corner of a building. As soon as they were out of sight, Teddy’s legs gave out from under him. He fell forward, and Booth caught him before he hit the ground. “C’mon man, let’s keep going,” Booth encouraged, lifting Teddy’s deadweight. 

As Booth tried to pull him up, he heard their captors speaking. He didn’t need to understand the language to know that they had realized their prisoners had escaped. Booth’s heart rate accelerated further and he yanked at Teddy’s collar. Teddy grunted in response and seemed to make himself physically heavier. Footsteps were quickly approaching. They hadn’t made it far, it would not be long until they were found. Booth gave a final tug under his shoulders to no avail. Teddy slapped his hands away and waved a hand, encouraging him to go on without him. 

Booth’s mind scrambled. Leaving Teddy was not an option. Instead of leaving him behind, Booth moved in front of Teddy’s prone form, waiting for their captors.

He didn’t have to wait long or fight for long. Booth only got one swing in before he was on the ground, his adrenaline and vision fading  as two man began kicking him in the ribs. The last thing he heard was the crunching sound of his body under their feet.

\-----

Zack turned plastic pieces over in his hands calmly as Brennan’s were shaking in her gloves. She had forcibly placed herself into the case of Booth and Teddy’s disappearance, wanting to help. Right now, it felt like the only help she was offering was shear force of will. There were no bodies found at the scene (which she kept reminding herself was a good thing because the bodies would have been likely to be Teddy or Booth), so she had nothing to work with. She tried to relate the working of the bomb to the intricacies of the circulatory system, but it was getting her nowhere. 

“I feel confident in saying that this bomb was made by the same person as the first one.” Zack jotted down a few notes. “Can you take this to Major General Greggs?”

Brennan tore off her gloves, eager to have a purpose. With the file in hand, she let her nervous energy carry her across the camp. Her eyes fell across Zack’s neat handwriting, his conclusions concise. He was a scientist, so he did not add any assumptions to his report, but the implication was clear. Same bombmaker. Their high value target, Accam, was behind the abduction of Booth and Teddy, and he had already proven himself to be a very dangerous man.  


End file.
